


falling in love at a coffee shop

by hanzios



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-16
Updated: 2020-10-16
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:41:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27040675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/pseuds/hanzios
Summary: Miller works at a local coffee shop. Every night, a young student comes in, orders a cup of latte, and sits in the corner booth, studying for hours on end.To be honest, Miller never liked his graveyard shift until the man started going in for coffee.
Relationships: Eric Jackson/Nathan Miller
Comments: 8
Kudos: 9





	falling in love at a coffee shop

**Author's Note:**

> thanks to the lovely @Stormkpr for being this work's beta! :) greatly appreciated. <3

Okay, so there’s this boy. Man. _Young adult._ Whatever.

Everyday, without fail, he comes to the coffee shop at 10 in the evening. He sits on the same quiet corner, too far away from the heater, and stays there in his too-big-for-him hoodie until well into the morning. Most days, he only orders a steaming latte, but sometimes, when he comes over later than usual, he gets a blueberry muffin on the side.

Miller tries not to watch the man too much during his shifts, even though he perpetually entertains him. There’s always a large book strewn across the table, pens and highlighters scattered along pages and pages of notes.

To be honest, Miller never liked his graveyard shift until the man started going in for coffee.

He was friendly enough – shy, even – and he always gave Miller this small smile whenever he asked for the same cup of coffee every night. It made the barista’s heart churn unnaturally, and it didn’t take him long to develop a small crush on the young student.

It is well past 10:49PM when said crush enters the coffee shop.

Not that Miller was keeping track of the time.

“I’ll have a regular latte, and…” he cranes his neck towards the glass display, drawling out his ‘and’ before continuing, “…one blueberry muffin, please.”

“Gotcha,” Miller says, but he was already pressing the numbers on the cash register.

“The name’s–“

“Jackson,” Miller replies, finally looking up. He is met with wide eyes, surprised at being remembered. “I know. You come here every night.”

Jackson smiles sheepishly, his grip on his textbook tightening. “I’m sorry.”

 _God, is he cute_. Miller looks up at him through his lashes, a small smirk plastered on his face. “Hey, don’t be. You keep the shop running and give good tips.” _Plus, seeing you around during night shifts makes my job more bearable._

The man merely gives him a tight smile and a small nod. He pays in cash, and, as always, leaves a generous tip on the jar. Miller watches him walk over to his usual spot before starting on his order. There are barely any other people at the coffee shop around that time, and his co-worker and friend, Octavia, is too busy with whatever the fuck she’s doing at the back room. Not that he’s complaining.

Miller likes making Jackson’s order, drawing the little hearts on the foam.

The rest of the night is slow, giving Miller enough free time to just hang out at one of the tables beside the counter. Sometime later, Octavia emerges from the kitchen and sits across him. Slowly, she peers over her shoulder into Jackson’s direction before turning back to Miller.

“That guy’s cute. Asked him out yet?”

Unamused, Miller says, “What do you mean?”

“He’s been coming over a lot,” Octavia explains, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “And I saw you staring at the clock earlier. You aren’t really the subtle type, Miller.”

He rolls his eyes. “I’m not into him, Octavia. End of discussion.”

“Oh, come on!” Her voice rises a little, and out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jackson look up to their table for a split second before returning to his books. “It’s been three months since you last dated anyone. And, as one of your closest friends, I approve _that_ guy.”

She sticks her thumb out to point to Jackson’s direction, and Miller quickly swats her hand away in embarrassment.

“ _Jesus!”_

Octavia just grins. She finally rises from her seat. “Fine, then. I’m gonna be at the back doing inventory if you need me.” She gives his shoulder a little squeeze before disappearing behind the door.

Miller’s gaze lands on Jackson. The man, without looking at his cup of coffee, tries to take a sip. But his eyes just widens as he tilts the cup, empty. Miller couldn’t suppress the smile on his face.

Before he could even control himself, he stands up and strides over to Jackson’s table. “Mind if I grab that?”

“Thanks.”

Miller grabs the empty cup and saucer from Jackson’s hand, their fingers brushing momentarily. It takes all of Miller’s inner control not to melt on the ground right there and then.

“Do you ever sleep?” Miller inquires, not wanting their conversation to grind to a halt.

Jackson lets out a puff of breath that almost sounds like laughter. “I’m a med student; sleep is a luxury.” Oh. He has jokes.

“Well, I don’t wanna keep you from your studies any longer, doc,” Miller says, a teasing tone in his voice. Jackson is smiling up at him, the orange lights of the coffee shop warming up his brown eyes. It takes Miller a quick second before gathering enough strength to look away.

Maybe he’ll ask him out.

Soon. Maybe.

Even if Jackson _is_ a little out of his league.

+

Three days later, Jackson bursts into the coffee shop at 6AM. Miller, however, is already outside, leaning against the brick wall with a cigarette between his lips to keep him warm. He clings to his jacket a little tighter as he waits for the med student to emerge out of the doors.

Jackson does, his face masked with worry.

“Looking for this?” Miller speaks up, standing straight, making the large text book visible in his grip.

Jackson turns to him. One look at the book, and his shoulders relax. “Oh, thank _God.”_

“You left in a hurry last night,” Miller says as-a-matter-of-factly, removing the cigarette from his mouth with one hand and handing Jackson his book on the other. Jackson’s eyes follow the cigarette before meeting Miller’s gaze once again.

“Yeah. Emergency at rotations. One of my patients with hyperthyroidism had a panic attack, which was expected of her illness and condi–“ he stops short of rambling, noticing the amused look on Miller’s face. “Sorry. I do that a lot.”

“No, it’s fine.” Miller grins, endeared. “I like hearing you talk.”

There is something that flashes across Jackson’s features, his look mimicking that of a deer in the headlights. He starts to open his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by a vibration from his pocket. Miller sighs, internally annoyed as Jackson pauses to check his phone.

Jackson looks up at him with apologetic eyes, trying to explain, but Miller only gives him a smile. “Yeah, go. Save lives.”

“Thank you. You saved mine.” 

And with that, Jackson sprints off to the opposite direction, book in hands, speed walking with newfound purpose. When he is almost out of earshot, Miller calls out, “See ya later!”

Surprisingly, without looking back, Jackson waves his arm.

See you later, indeed.

+

They haven’t really talked much after _that_ incident, other than friendly ‘hello’s and little quips here and there. Even weeks after Jackson first started coming to the coffee shop, Miller _still_ isn’t sure if the man was into guys. Their last real interaction out on the street stumped the barista.

For a gay man, he sure had terrible gaydar.

Miller had only started his shift at 9PM, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone when a familiar voice catches him off-guard.

“Hey.”

He looks up to find Jackson smiling at him, dressed in a crimson plaid shirt below a cool green sweater. Miller can’t help but take in how handsome he looked outside his usual oversized hoodies.

“You’re early,” Miller blurts out before even thinking. He curses himself mentally.

Jackson just nods, never the talker, hands on the counter. “Yeah, um, I’ll have two iced Americanos, please. And two slices of the red velvet cake.”

Miller does everything in his power not to inquire any further as he punches in Jackson’s new order. By the context clues, he draws the conclusion that Jackson is _probably, most likely_ on a date. Why else would he come in looking like a snack and changing his orders all of a sudden? Silently, Miller also notes the absence of Jackson’s overly large backpack.

Well, _shit._

After paying for his food and giving his tip, Jackson retreats to his usual spot.

At least some things haven’t changed tonight.

“Stop looking at him, creep,” Octavia nudges him with her elbow.

“I’m _not,”_ Miller defends, pushing past her into the coffee machine.

“What’s up with you, grumpy pants?”

“Nothing.” He really isn’t up for talking about his feelings, especially with Octavia. “Help me and get two slices of the red velvet, will you?”

Octavia puts her hands up in mock defense, striding over towards the glass display to do her job. As Miller is grinding the coffee beans to make espresso, the bell above the door rings. He looks over his shoulder and finds a blonde woman approaching Jackson. The man stands up and smiles – that’s the biggest smile Miller had ever seen him in – before enveloping the woman in a warm embrace.

_Oh no, he’s straight_ _._

Miller turns away.

“Ah. I see. You’re jealous.” Octavia is suddenly leaning against the counter beside him, her arms crossed. He only manages to roll his eyes before finishing the order and setting it on the circular tray. It’s clearly no use denying Octavia’s (pretty accurate) observations.

When he approaches the table, Jackson looks up at him with the same bright smile.

“Your two Americanos and red velvet cake,” Miller says monotonously, setting their food down. He gets a closer look at the blonde woman, and _man,_ she sure as hell is beautiful. Lucky bastard.

“Thanks, Nathan,” Jackson says, once again catching Miller off-guard. His brain begins to short-circuit at the sound of the man saying his name, like he’s some lovesick schoolgirl.

He just nods, pursing his lips before walking away.

As he’s on his way back to the counter, he catches Octavia’s gleaming eyes. Before she could say anything, he deadpans, “Don’t.”

“ _What?_ What did I say?” she defends, laughing.

The entire night seems to drag on longer than it should have. They have a couple more customers come in, mostly students and other regulars. Miller tries his best not to focus on the corner booth, but finds it very hard to do so. Jackson and this mystery lady have been talking for hours now, the med student laughing out loud here and there.

Admittedly, Octavia was right. He _is_ jealous.

At that moment, he’s never wanted anything more than to be on the receiving end of Jackson’s bright smile and glowing eyes.

The clock reads 11PM when their conversation dies down. Miller is cleaning one of the tables when the two of them stand up from their seats. Before exiting, Jackson turns to Miller’s direction, but he quickly looks away, wiping at nothing.

+

Jackson doesn’t come over the next night. Nor the night after that, or the night after that.

Miller is worried with a side of disappointed.

Octavia notes the man’s absence with a sense of pity, squeezing Miller’s shoulder in comfort. Despite his previous denials on his (very much obvious) crush on the guy, he welcomes Octavia’s friendliness with a small, sad smile.

Does Jackson not like the coffee shop anymore?

Did he find a better place to study in?

Did he find a better _person_ to study _with?_

Jealousy is an ugly feeling, and boy, is Miller full of it.

It is around midnight on a Monday evening when the bell rings and Miller sees him again. He looks, for lack of a better word, awful. Jackson’s face had gotten pale, his nose and the tips of his ears reddened. He looks like he hadn’t slept in _days,_ which, for him, is probably the case.

“Hey,” Miller greets, the initial enthusiasm of seeing him dying down, replaced by friendly concern. “Are you okay?” 

“Fine,” is the reply. Jackson runs a hand through his already-disheveled hair. “I’ll have–“

“The usual?”

He nods, a tight smile on his lips. He begins to reach into his pocket before Miller stops him.

“Don’t worry, it’s on the house,” he says. Jackson looks up, surprised. “Consider this a ‘welcome back’ present for our resident doctor.”

A light shines in Jackson’s eyes, and his smile widens gratefully. “Thank you.” 

Miller’s eyes follow his back as the student retreats into the same corner. Jackson takes a full five seconds of staring into blank space before opening his bag and setting up his reviewers. It aches Miller seeing him like this.

He throws in a fresh, warm chocolate chip muffin on the tray beside Jackson’s latte before walking over to him. The man’s face is a bit disoriented when Miller lays out his meal on the only empty space on the table.

Before Jackson could protest, Miller says, “Just eat. You look like you need it.”

There is a softness in the man’s eyes. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Miller shrugs, heat rising to his cheeks. “Well, you come here a lot, and those are a _lot_ of books, and I know it’s none of my business, but your girlfriend’s not here, so–“

“Wait. _Girlfriend?”_

“Um. I thought– the lady last week–“

“Oh, no, _no._ ” Jackson chuckles, running a hand over his face. “That was Clarke. She’s like a sister to me. We _were_ supposed to meet tonight because she’s trying to get into med school, but…” He waves a hand into the empty seat in front of him.

“I could keep you company.” Miller blurts out those words without taking a second to think. _What the hell._ It’s now or never. He laid out his cards in front of him, and now it’s Jackson’s move to either accept it or break his heart.

The corner of Jackson’s mouth twitches into a smile. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

_Okay. Cool._

Miller takes one glance at the counter and finds Octavia giving him a not-so-subtle thumbs up from her spot. He looks away, face warm, before sliding on the booth in front of Jackson. There is a silence between them, but it isn’t uncomfortable at all.

The med student takes the chocolate chip muffin in his hand, examining it carefully before taking a small bite. It only takes a split second for him to widen his eyes, looking at Miller with utter joy. It isn’t hard to reciprocate the man’s enthusiasm.

 _“Right?”_ he encourages, crossing his arms on the table and leaning forward slightly. “I know you like the blueberry ones, but they’re kinda stale right now, and, well, chocolate chip’s my favorite.”

“Fairly so,” Jackson says in between large mouthfuls, Miller only falling deeper in love with him by the second.

“Glad to see you looking better, Jackson,” Miller comments. Jackson looks up from a small sip of his hot coffee.

“I looked that bad, huh?”

Miller panics, dumbfounded. “ _No, that’s not what I meant–“_

Jackson chuckles. “No, you’re right,” he says. “The past couple days have been… rough… to say the least.” His expression, for a split second, turns dark, but he quickly composes himself. “But I don’t wanna bore you.”

There is something fundamentally lonely about how Jackson seems to have to apologize for talking or taking up space. It’s as if he hadn’t been given attention for a long, _long_ time, so he’d learned not to seek it. Hell, he’d learned to deny it for himself. It makes Miller more determined to lift Jackson’s dimmed spirits.

The barista raises his brow, leaning forward in a challenging tone. “Try me.”

The corner of Jackson’s mouth ticks upward. After Miller’s permission, the young student starts talking. About his rotations at the hospital, and how his patient with hyperthyroidism had developed serious mental health problems, leaving him to deal with her treatment with his adviser, and a psychiatrist. Apparently, Jackson had stayed at the hospital for four days and nights, never leaving until his duty was done.

Miller could only listen in awe at Jackson’s commitment. And he isn’t even a _doctor_ yet. He doesn’t know much about medical school, but he bet most final-year students would’ve just done the bare minimum and walked away.

But Jackson is special. He’s _good,_ plain and simple.

A large part of Miller thinks he doesn’t deserve him.

“Anyway, between monitoring her conditions and studying for class, I haven’t had the time to come over,” Jackson says, ending his story.

“Well, I’m glad you’re here now,” Miller smiles.

“Now enough about me,” the young student says. “Tell me about _you,_ Nathan.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying?” he teases with a playful grin.

“The medical journals can wait.”

“I’m not that interesting. Not as interesting as you, anyway.” Miller looks at his hands briefly. Jackson only leans forward, the same smile on his face.

“Try me.”

Miller beams momentarily. “Long story short, I, uh, used to get caught up in some bad shit in the past. My dad’s a police captain.” He says bitterly. “Sure as hell loved having a thief for a kid.” He looks up at Jackson, expecting to see judgment, but only seeing understanding.

Miller continues, “But then I got myself out of that life. Took a couple odd jobs here and there, until I landed here.” He smiles wistfully. “I’m trying to get into the Police Academy. Dad… he’s helping me, at least. That’s all that matters, really.”

Suddenly, a warm hand is perched on top of his, sending electricity down Miller’s spine. His chest bursts with affection as Miller looks at Jackson’s hand, heart beating out of his ribcage at the physical contact, before his eyes lead him to the other’s – kind. His mouth runs dry.

“I’m sure your dad is proud of you, Nate,” Jackson says, the nickname rolling off of his tongue easily. “I know it doesn’t mean as much, but _I am_.”

Miller’s eyes seem to glaze with the deep tenderness he is feeling.

“It matters. Thank you.”

Finally, Jackson removes his hand from Miller’s, but somehow Miller could still feel the weight of the other man’s touch on his. There is a silence between them before Jackson speaks up.

“Anyway, I have something embarrassing to tell you,” Miller notices the wariness back on his voice.

“More embarrassing than my life story?” Miller jokes.

“It wasn’t embarrassing, it was honest,” is the man’s reply. Miller’s heart swells once more. Jackson opens his black bag and pulls out a bunch of papers. “Anyway, we had an assignment on lung diseases last week. We were tasked to identify studies on these illnesses, relate them to personal experiences, and write in a treatment plan. I thought maybe you’d want it.”

The student outstretches his arm, offering his essay to the confused barista.

“I… uh, I know it’s none of my business,” Jackson quickly explains as Miller takes the papers. “But I noticed you taking cigarettes before. So, I kind of centered my essay on nicotine-based illnesses, and, uh, mapped out a withdrawal plan… thinking of you.”

Miller thumbs through the fifteen-page research paper, in awe at the amount of effort it took to write all of this. And, wait, did Jackson just say he made this _thinking of him?_

When Miller looks up, Jackson apologizes again. “ _I’m sorry._ This is weird. I shouldn’t have said that. I–“

“No, don’t apologize,” Miller says, voice slow. In all honesty, he’s been trying to kick this bad habit for years now. He’d started taking cigarettes as a teenager, and that is one of the only vices that he’d carried into adulthood. He’s not particularly sure why he didn’t stop. Maybe it’s pure lack of self-control. Maybe it’s because nobody cared enough to shake him out of it.

At least, not until this pretty med student who he’s barely said ten words to before tonight came into his life. This pretty med student who just gave him the support he’s needed all this time – there in his hands, written in Times New Roman, size 12.

“Your paper says withdrawal symptoms should be closely monitored by a medical expert,” Miller continues, gazing at the paper before turning to Jackson. “Lucky I got you for that, huh?”

Jackson grins. A full grin. It is as bright as Miller had imagined from afar. “You know, if you want to go over my treatment plan more in-depth, my apartment’s always free.”

_Wow. Is this real life?_

“Might take you up on that offer, doc.”

Before Jackson could respond, Octavia calls from behind the counter, “Hey, loverboy! There are dishes begging to be washed out here.” Embarrassed, Miller gives her a stern glare before turning back to Jackson.

“Um, tomorrow afternoon sound good to you?”

“Yeah.”

Miller walks over to Jackson’s side, taking one of his pens and writing his number on top of the man’s open book, right above the illustration of a diseased human heart. ( _Romantic_.) When he turns his head, the student’s reddening face is mere inches away. “See ya then, doc.”

Jackson’s eyes flickers to Miller’s lips momentarily before smiling. “Looking forward to it.”

And with that, the barista disappears into the kitchen, but not without one last look at Jackson. He spends the entire night in total euphoria, turning up his Spotify playlist as he washes the dishes, hips bumping along to the beat. Octavia only grins at him as she watches, in that ‘I told you so’ way of hers. 

Huh.

Maybe the graveyard shift isn’t so bad after all.

_End._


End file.
